


best for last

by beansprout



Series: water and a flame [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Bondage, Forced Orgasm, Light BDSM, M/M, Mobster Edward, mafioso Ezio, welcome to the rarepair fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beansprout/pseuds/beansprout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezio had made an off-hand comment about how he’d never been able to come from his ass alone. Naturally, Edward took that idea and ran with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	best for last

**Author's Note:**

> This was much saucier in my head. I consider this my practice piece. One day I will be able to write the smut. One day.  
> I'm also not really happy with this because I thought I didn't make Edward's dialogue colorful enough. But meh, I kind of just really wanted to get this idea out of my head and get it over with, then move on.

If Edward had known that his occupations would be the reason he would never again be able to spend an afternoon in private… Well, he would still probably have become a mobster, because he was a bad person who had an unhealthy affinity to making bad choices, apparently. 

He would _definitely_ reconsider having Haytham, though. 

His favorite son’s name was flashing on his phone’s screen as it buzzed. Edward didn’t recall making anyone, not even Haytham, an exception from his ‘do not disturb’ order. Gods in heaven. Did he really raise his sons to be such barbarians that they had no regards for people’s privacy? Still, even as he complained to himself, Edward had to admit that Haytham wouldn’t bug him unless absolutely necessary. Leaning forward from his armchair, Edward picked up the phone and answered in a long-suffering tone, hoping to convey his glare through the line. “Yes, Haytham. What is it you want, lad?”

“You’ve been in there for a long time,” stated Haytham primly, not even a trace of remorse in his voice. He had always had an admirable resistance to Edward’s ire, which made him such a good second-in-command, and such an annoying one. “Are you sure your… paramour is still alive?”

“What?” Edward scoffed, “What kind of question is that? Did you really think I’d kill him?”

“Only out of carelessness and ignorance, maybe,” Haytham replied tartly. “You did put him in a precarious situation.”

“Precari—” Edward leaned forward a little, his attention definitely captured. “How long have you been watching?”

If he had any doubt about how expressive Haytham could be, these doubts were sure dispelled now. Haytham’s tone was now as dry as the desert. “Believe me, father, I’ve no interest in seeing more than I absolutely have to. Put my conscience at ease: are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Course I do!” And, in a flash of petty rebellion, Edward added, “Nothing your aunt Mary hadn’t tried on me already.”

He was gratified with a groan before the line clicked off. Chuckling, Edward tapped the button to cut off the call from his end. With some luck, that image would be enough to dissuade Haytham from spying on him further. 

Getting up from his chair, Edward moved over to the bed, where he’d left Ezio. As soon as the mattress dipped, Ezio turned his face to him, and Edward cupped his cheek. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he actually saw anything.” He stroked Ezio’s hair, loose and dark against the pillow. “I rearranged all the cameras I could find. Do you think I’d let anyone see you like this?”

That only earned him a whimper in reply. Edward chuckled, feeling a kind of wicked amusement rising from the depth of his chest. (Curiously, it was also the place that held so much tenderness for the man.) He knew very well that if Ezio had been capable of speaking, it wouldn’t have been much coherent, either. He had no idea how he’d persuaded the other into a scene like this, but he was sure now he was a better negotiator than he’d thought he could be. This was not their first experiment, but everything they’d done until now was vanilla compared to this. And Edward was sure he was not the only one to benefit.

This was not the first time he’d put Ezio in ropes. In fact, he’d bought a coil just for Ezio, having no trouble picking his color. Red fit him so well, especially slashed across his skin in the bows-and-knots pattern of the dragonfly sleeve. Starting from his shoulders, the ropes looped over his arms, drawing them together until they tightened at the wrists. With his arms trapped under him, Ezio’s body was tilted up just right, and Edward could have been content with that angle, but today they’d agreed to push the boundaries a little more. Ezio had eyed the spreader bar with some incredulity when Edward had explained what he meant to do with it. But so far, he had had no trouble keeping the position Edward had arranged him in, with the metal rod chained to his ankles and a piece of rope looping his wrists to the middle of it.

Edward had always loved himself a man who could get a little _bendy_.

Full of self-satisfaction, Edward continued to stroke Ezio’s hair. Eventually his fingers trailed to the other’s face, tracing the edge of the silk scarf that covered Ezio’s eyes. Edward had blindfolds, but that piece of red silk Ezio had showed up with practically begged for the job. It lent a tinge of blush to Ezio’s already flushed cheeks, and he looked so perfect Edward could kiss him. 

He would, too, if not for the horse bit gag clenched between Ezio’s teeth and strapped firmly to the back of his head.

“Still doing fine?” he whispered, dragging the pad of his thumb over the scar on Ezio’s lips. The Italian shuddered and took a moment before he gathered enough coordination to give an affirmative nod. He shifted a little, his fingers relaxing around the clicker that Edward had pressed securely in his palm. Edward smiled and bent down to kiss his forehead. Despite the spontaneity that they both favored while conducting business, they didn’t jump into things like this scene on a whim. It’d taken a couple talks, and Edward had decided on the clicker as a failsafe. Even if he couldn’t speak, Ezio could still press it in quick succession for Edward to stop whatever it was he could get up to. 

Edward’s fingers were resting at Ezio’s shoulder now, and he could feel him tense. Ezio was bucking – the best he could, anyway – digging his heels into the mattress and bracing on his shoulders to jerk his hips desperately upwards. Edward paused, watching intently, hoping Ezio might reach another release, but no such luck. Eventually Ezio settled down, moving only in slight twitches, as he let out a defeated moan that came out muffled by the bit.

Chuckling, Edward brushed his hand down Ezio’s torso, pointedly ignoring his arousal, going straight to circle a finger around his entrance. It was still slick with the lube Edward had prepped him with before fitting two sets of anal beads into him. The rings at the end of the beads – the only parts of them still visible – were quivering with the vibration they were sending through Ezio’s body. Edward hooked his fingers into one ring and pulled out a single bead, and Ezio _keened_. Edward could see his mouth work around the bit, trying to form speech. “Shh,” Edward cooed as the Italian tried to toss his head back against the pillow. He pushed the bead back in. “Just a little more, love. You look so beautiful.”

The sound that Ezio let out then could only be described as a snort. Edward let out a bark of laughter himself. He shouldn’t have underestimated the lengths Ezio would go to give some attitude, even trussed up and ruined like this. From under the scarf, the Italian’s glare still filtered through. Edward smirked, knowing Ezio was probably regretting revealing too much about his sexual experience when Edward had plied him with white wine (that he may or may not have smuggled entire casks of for this very purpose). 

Ezio had made an off-hand comment about how he’d never been able to come from his ass alone. Naturally, Edward took that idea and ran with it. So, here they were, after an hour of sweet, sweet torture, and Ezio had already been proven wrong _twice_. Edward could kiss himself, he was such a genius.

“I was hoping to push for a third orgasm,” he said conversationally, settling on the bed between Ezio’s legs, laughing at the muffled noise of outrage Ezio was making. “Whoa, relax! You’ve been very patient. That’s good. So I thought I’d help you out a little.” 

The ankle straps were slipped off, the piece of rope removed, and Edward tossed the spreader bar over the side of the bed, where it hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thump. He allowed Ezio a moment to stretch his legs, but was soon pushing them back again. He had always liked having Ezio all spreaded out for him. As he pulled out the beads Ezio whined and tossed his head back, and as always, the fragile angle of his neck seemed to call out to Edward. He made short work of the beads, before lining up and pushing in, sucking bruises into Ezio’s neck as he thrust, the tilt of Ezio’s hips at just the perfect angle for Edward to drive right home.

There might not have been much to mark Ezio’s release, but there was no missing the third orgasm in every line of his body. Edward relished in the thought that everything Ezio was, right now at this moment, was _his_.

*

As a rule of thumb Edward could never be expected out of bed before nine o’clock in the morning, and much later if rum had been involved in the previous night. Now, though, it was only seven o’clock and his frozen ass was standing in the cold kitchen, as he cursed and tried to assemble enough food stuff on the tray to make it an acceptable breakfast.

An hour prior, Edward had finally woken up when his phone buzzed so hard it fell off the nightstand and onto the floor. He reached over Ezio, and nearly joined the phone on the floor when Ezio rolled over to his side, muttering sleepily, annoyed at being woken up. Groaning, Edward had to leave the bed and walked all the way around to retrieve the phone, which had then renewed its buzzing with much enthusiasm.

La Volpe was on the other side of the line to inform Edward that his paramour (Why is everyone using that word?) had a plane to catch at eight o’clock, and since it was Edward who had kidnapped Ezio from his duties the night before, it was only fitting that he should return the head of the Italian mafia, all wrapped up and paid for and ready for work, at the appointed time. Otherwise… Well, Edward hadn’t been awake enough to recall the exact words La Volpe had used. He just knew that it would be unpleasant, and that he would regret it, should he fail to comply. 

He took ten minutes, his personal best, to put together a perfect breakfast that would please any honest American (or Welshman, for that matter). Crispy bacon, eggs, toast and coffee, everything loaded onto a tray and brought to bed. He poked Ezio awake. “Psst. I brought breakfast. Your plane leaves at eight, remember?” 

The way Ezio squinted at him, confused, was adorable enough that he had to run a hand through his hair. The corners of Ezio’s mouth were still red after the gag’s abuse, and Edward sincerely hoped that the flight would be long enough for the marks to fade. After all, he had no desire to let anyone else even catch a glimpse at what _his_ Ezio could look like when thoroughly defiled. 

Ezio sniffed the air and recoiled, nostrils flaring, at the smell of grease. “Edward, that is disgusting,” he said hoarsely, voice much used. He might not have been able to make noises last night, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t screamed. “You can’t be thinking you could lure me out of bed with that.”

Edward cursed. “What else am I supposed to bring, then?”

He was certain it was with glee that Ezio explained to him the concept of continental breakfast. Toast, jam, butter, orange juice, coffee. Croissants and biscotti, now where the hell was he supposed to find that? “Alright, just eat this and get dressed,” he decreed finally, slipping the plate with the toast off of the tray and into Ezio’s hand. “I’ll bring you… whatever the hell I can find, I guess. Though who wants that much sugar so early in the morning, I have no idea.”

“Says the man who stuffs his face with grease,” called Ezio after him. “I take milk in my coffee!”

Edward remembered that. Since Ezio reminded him every single time, he remembered that. He really, really should have checked that Ezio got out of bed, though. As it was, when Edward came back with a fresh tray, the Italian had curled up in the blanket and gone back to sleep, the plate of toast cold and forgotten. 

Edward found out that he could cry – in fact, he felt like crying a bit, just now. “Ezio, for the love of all that’s holy, _please_ get up,” he cajoled. Ezio muttered and turned away, and Edward had no choice but to climb into bed with him. He knew a couple spots on the Italian’s body that could change his mind very quickly. “I’m sorry about last night, okay? That was mean. But you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it.”

Ezio cracked open an eye. “Do you know what they also call La Volpe?”

Edward fell quiet, taken aback by this turn of the conversation. “No, what?”

“ _Il Tagliagole_ ,” Ezio informed him. Even before Edward thought to asked, he’d elaborated, “Cutthroat. Though I know he’d be very happy to cut… other bits off of the anatomy of the man who offended him.” His hand reached back to cup Edward through his boxers, and Edward swallowed nervously. “Or his boss, evidently.”

Edward whined, “I said sorry, didn’t I?” He kissed the back of Ezio’s neck, dismayed to find that it was not as persuasive as it usually proved to be. He really needed to map out new spots. “What else can a man do?”

Ezio turned around to face him and grinned, baring very white teeth. Edward suddenly felt the urge to jump out of bed and run. At the same time, the only word he could use to describe what he felt, when Ezio moved to straddle his hips, was arousal. “Simple,” Ezio said airily, obviously enjoying Edward’s stare. “Next time, you’re the one getting tied up.”


End file.
